


Family Values

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Protectiveness, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: For the rest of their lives, they’ll repeat this clash: “Fight me, Alex.” “I don’t want to.”





	Family Values

“Quit crying! I’m not raising my only son to be a sissy!” Father yells.

The door’s closed, so Olivier can’t hear what Alex says, if he says anything, but after a few seconds there’s the obvious sound of impact, flesh against flesh, and now she can hear Alex crying too, even though she couldn’t before.

And she knows better than to go in there, and whatever, Alex probably deserves it. He _is_ a crybaby, she can kick his ass and she’s a girl. But. But, he is her brother, and she promised when he was born that she’d protect him, because that’s her _job_ , as the oldest sister. That’s their job, as a family, they protect Amestris. It’s all honor and duty and strength, and she may be only twelve but she’s been raised on that oath, those words, since she was sucking at her mother’s breast. So’s Alex, but he takes things personally and asks too many fucking _questions_ , and that pisses off their father, the general, who expects his children to obey orders and keep their mouths shut.

Alex doesn’t want to be a soldier, he wants to be an alchemist, and Olivier knows he’s smart enough to do it, he spends all his time studying or drawing circles in the dirt in the back garden. Alex just wants to make people happy. He draws pictures to give to Mama, or even Olivier sometimes, even though she pretends not to want them. He’s determined and strong and he never gives up, he’s won more medals than she can count in the end-of-term competitions they have in gym class. So he’s not _weak_. He’s just not a fighter. In any other family, that would be good enough.

Another hit. Olivier sits on the stairs across from her father’s study and glares at the closed door. She can’t do anything, her trying to defend him would only make things worse. If he’d stand up for himself, he wouldn’t be in this mess. At least he’s stopped crying, as far as she can tell.

The door opens, just wide enough for Alex to slip out. He’s rubbing his cheek and his eyes are red, and when he sees her sitting there he looks torn between scowling and smiling. She rolls her eyes, and then he sits next to her, pressed up against her body. She lets him. This is not the first time they’ve done this.

“You know he’s just trying to toughen you up. If you fought back, he’d stop.”

Alex just stares at her, slightly open-mouthed. This is advice that works against schoolyard bullies. Their father is not the same thing.

“Or he’d kill me,” he says, as he traces a circle with his finger on the marble stair.

Olivier shrugs. “Well. You won’t know til you try.”

“You’re _trying_ to get me killed.”  
  
“Of course I’m not.” She frowns down at him. Their father doesn’t usually do anything to _really_ hurt him, it’s all superficial blows, just trying to make a point. If he was in real danger, he’d say so, wouldn’t he? “You’re okay, right?”

He shrugs. No, but he will be? Probably. “Fight me,” she challenges.

“What?”

“Fight _me_. You have to know how to defend yourself, Alex, that’s all he’s trying to teach you.”

“I don’t want to.”

She sighs, heavily, and grabs his wrist. He looks up at her, fear in his wide eyes. “Fuck, Alex, I’m not him. I’m not trying to hurt you. You trust me, right?” After several long seconds, he nods slowly. “Let’s go, then.”

She takes him out to the back garden and knocks him into the dirt so many times that they both lose count, and he’s crying again, but he is also hitting her back, hard enough to draw blood, and she is so insanely proud of him that even though she won’t let him win - and he _doesn’t_ win, and never will, not against her - it feels like he has.

For the rest of their lives, they’ll repeat this clash: “Fight me, Alex.” “I don’t want to.”

But he will, and he’ll give it his all and lose, but she knows she doesn’t need to protect him.


End file.
